


I've got a soft place in my heart, my darling, for you

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Powers, First Kiss, Gay Raphael Santiago, INES LOOK, M/M, No Angst, Pansexual Simon Lewis, Period-Typical Homophobia, Raphael wears leather jackets, Simon wears glasses, Surprise Kissing, barely any homophobia - just a background mention, had this one in my drafts, minor clothes sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-12 10:45:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10489107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: Simon is seventeen and sure he's broken every rule of friendship in a single bound.Raphael bolts upright, swiping at his mouth. "You kissed me."





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thatbloodyines](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatbloodyines/gifts).



> title is from, "Soft Place in my Heart" by Buddy Holly
> 
> surprise gift for Ines (because you've been so patient with me & have had a rough go at things lately. hope this makes you smile)

 

* * *

Simon is seventeen and sure he's broken every rule of friendship in a single bound. 

 

 -

Raphael Santiago has been his pal since fifth grade when Charlie Alsop threatened to make Simon eat dirt. A short stocky kid with angry fists and a clenched jaw launched himself at the bully and  _growled._ When that didn't work he drew back and punched him right in the nose. The bully ran off crying to the teacher and Raphael smirked proudly. With bloodied knuckles, he shook the taller scrawny boy's hand. 

"Raphael Santiago," he said. A heavy name for a headstrong boy. Simon had stumbled over his own tongue and his name for that matter. 

"Two first names," Raphael remarked. Simon geared up for a scathing argument - this he was good at. Instead, the shorter boy squeezed his shoulder and smiled. From that point on, they'd been inseparable. They had their differences, sure. Simon was Jewish, Raphael was Catholic. 

Simon ran his mouth a lot. Raphael plucked him from the pavement a lot. It worked. 

-

 

So yeah. He's pretty much a ruin. 

Raphael bolts upright, swiping at his mouth. "You kissed me." 

They'd been in the midst of a heated debate about whether or not Simon returned his best friend's favorite jacket or not. Simon had kept it for the sheer sake of getting under Raphael's skin. When the latter gets angry he puffs up his chest, sets his jaw and bites his bottom lip - it's better than a picture show. Raphael was all set to stalk off when something inside of Simon made him reach out and snag him by the wrist before he could stand.

The next move had been outright comical. He'd lunged at his friend, nearly knocking him off balance and pressed their mouths together. It lasted all of ten seconds but it shut Raphael up. Kissing him felt like second nature - like tying your shoes before you walk out the door or holding the door for a dame. 

It felt  _good._

It made him stay.

A win/win situation.  

 

They stand, Simon towering over Raphael by three inches. "Yeah, so. Whatcha gonna do about it?" He asks, playfully. 

 

He's no idiot. He's well aware that boys their age should be chasing after pretty girls with their floral hairpins and soft curves. It's not that he doesn't find them attractive, it's just - girls don't go for boys that wear glasses, have a knack for numbers and wear their best friend's leather jackets. Raphael Santiago is a classic example of who they set their sights on. 

He wears his jackets like a second skin, pomades his hair into near perfection, eyes so dark they're nearly black. He's quiet and sometimes walks around with a posse of greasers at his back. He's _pretty_ for lack of a better word. 

Not only that but he treats Simon as if he's the center of his world. When others come around talking smack, he inches closer - almost protectively. When it's Friday night, he's kicking his best friend's butt at Battleship instead of hanging at the corner soda shop. 

It's not far fetched to have made a move on him. Boys aren't supposed to like boys but Raphael isn't typical nor is he going steady with anyone. It doesn't count. 

(It does)

(Simon likes girls  _and_ Raphael. Like _that_. Who wouldn't?) 

 

Raphael's brows furrow. "Why'd you do that?"

 

They're in the thick of it. No use in lying now. " 'cause you're pretty when you're mad," Simon confesses, charming smile in place. 

For a hot minute, his best friend looks  _angry._ He breathes heavily through his nose, clamps his jaw together. Slowly, he comes down, calming. He's beautiful, Simon thinks. It's a shame he's too oblivious to notice girls flirting with him. Somehow he always misses it. 

"You can't do that," Raphael states firmly.  

Simon criss crosses his arms. "I just did." 

"I know that _genius_ ," Raphael starts, moving into his space. His voice lowers, softer. "But that's a lousy reason for kissing someone."

(Simon could effortlessly rattle off a whole list of reasons why he should do it again) 

Raphael is standing too close, more than his usual (utter disregard for personal space). Simon's heart pounds painfully against his ribs, his hands are clammy and yeah - that definitely sounds like an invitation.

"How about this then?" He tugs on the lapels of Raphael's jacket, closer still. "Maybe I _wanted_ to kiss you, hmm?" 

A flurry of emotions flash across his friend's eyes followed by a hard swallow and Simon's back against his bedroom wall.  

 

"Still wanna kiss me, Simon?"

 

There's an edge to Raphael's tone - he's nervous, scared. It's not like him to not be full of himself, overflowing with a confident bravado. He's trying to sound bigger than he is, as strong as he pretends to be. 

Simon nods. 

Yes. Yes. Everyday. Yes.

 

Raphael is surprisingly tender when they touch.

Cautiously Simon slides a hand under his jacket, flattens it against Raphael's lower back. Raphael sucks in a shaky breath, drops every one of his defenses. He tangles one hand in Simon's and gently pushes his glasses back up where they belong with the other.

He does things like that often. Simon hadn't noticed before.

" _Bésame_ ," he murmurs, eyes on parted lips. 

(Kiss me)

Simon's stomach fills up with butterflies. He swears the sun shines brighter outside of his window the minute their lips touch.

Raphael smells of pomade and cologne. When Simon licks into his mouth he tastes of the oranges they'd split earlier and chocolate. They're pressing into one another and Simon can't keep his hands to himself. They skim paths up Raphael's back, his ribs, the jut of his hips. 

Raphael kisses a hot path down his neck and Simon nearly slides down the wall with pleasure. Because his best friend is cocky as hell, he chuckles against his skin before continuing a tortuous path to the collarbone peeking out of Simon's shirt. 

He can't imagine why they've waited this long. 

-

 

They kiss languidly, explore overtop of shirts and jeans, Raphael's carefully discarded jacket. 

"Can I ask you something?" Simon whispers sometime later. 

They're curled up on his bed, hair tousled and clothes wrinkled, Raphael's fingers in his hair. If heaven were a place on Earth, it would be right here. With him.

"If you're asking to kiss me, you're gonna to  have to wait. I need a breather," Raphael replies with a lazy smile. 

"I want to and I'm gonna and I'm _pretty_ sure I don't even have to ask but that's not what I meant." Simon has no filter, he just doesn't. Sometimes his babbling gets him in trouble; he's hoping today isn't one of them. 

"Jerk," Raphael mumbles playfully. 

(He's not wrong)

Simon peers up from where his head rests on his best friend's chest. "Is this why you don't date?" This being them, this being  _bésame,_ this being no resistance when Simon kissed him. 

Raphael's cheeks color, he chooses to look at the wall instead of at Simon. "Yes."

Wow.

He was not expecting that. If anything he figured he'd get knuckles in his hair or an eye roll. At worst, Raphael leaving him alone in his bed. 

"You still...I mean...girls. They're pretty, right?" Simon stammers. The kids at school (the mean ones) call boys who kiss other boys things like fairy, 'a bit funny,' a  _flit._ His best friend could net any gal he wants, surely he's not...

But then again.

"Yes," Raphael answers.

Simon is even more confused. 

"-they're nice to look at. I prefer the opposite," Raphael clarifies. 

_Oh._

A surge of jealousy hits Simon hard. "Got your eye on any fellas?" 

Raphael rolls his eyes. "Idiot." He drops a soft kiss to Simon's temple and begins to hum surprisingly in tune in lieu of an answer. "Only you can make the world seem right," he begins. 

Simon groans, burying his face in his  _something's_ neck. He has an amazing, incredibly sexy voice and it's doing things to Simon. Starting with the blush on his cheeks and culminating in his jeans getting tighter, hotter. 

And his heart - oh _God,_ his heart. He's so in love that it hurts.

"You're killing my ears," he lies. 

Undeterred, Raphael grins wide and continues. "Only you and you alone can thrill me like you do."

The lyrics give Simon a possessive thrill - Raphael is his. 

Raphael Santiago is  _his_ sweetheart. 

To kiss, to take out on the town (with a pair of pretty girls on account of not being found out), to strip down, to share a malt and rainy days with. It's an exhilarating dizzying thought. He can't even remember what started their petty argument (that led to this) in the first place.

It doesn't matter. It doesn't _matter_.

Raphael only stops singing when Simon bites his neck nice and hard. From there it's a flurry of heated kisses and shirts hitting the floor. 

 

* * *

 Simon is seventeen and he's sure of one thing:

He's in love with Raphael Santiago. 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
